Joys of Being First
by iviscrit
Summary: "Would you say you feel for me ardently?" She rolled her eyes. "Of course, but-" "Isn't ardent synonymous with 'fervid? Isn't fervid synonymous with 'burning?" Tom tries to get Minerva to help him with some magical experimentation. Oneshot. TMR/MM with a healthy dose of Manipulative!Tom and Snarky!Minerva. For SherbetKitty. Rated T for language.


The muse is back. GTFO I HAVE EXAMS. SherbetKitty I dedicate this to you.

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Minerva looked up from her notes. "Yes?"

"I had an idea and I need a test subject and you should help me because you adore me and it's extremely important."

"Tom, it's exam week. If this isn't school related-"

"It is! Vaguely." In a moment he was standing behind her chair, taking her hands in his and twisting until she let go of the quill and parchment. "Come on."

She shook him off. "What's the matter with you? You're unusually hyper.." She realized with some surprise that Tom, usually immaculate, appeared as though he hadn't slept all night, his hair mussed and his clothes wrinkled. "Were you in the dungeons all night?"

"Don't interrogate me. Now come."

She sighed. "I don't like being ordered around. What exactly am I supposed to help with and how long will it take?"

Seizing her shoulders, he pressed a kiss to her temple as he half-lifted, half-dragged her from her chair. "That means you'll help. Wonderful."

0o0o0

Minerva regarded his left forearm warily. "So you want me to get a matching tattoo? This is the sort of bad decision you're bound to regret when you're thirty. I'm not going along with this."

He smirked. "Ah, Minerva. Dear, sweet, logical, simple Minerva. First of all, I never regret anything I do, because everything is premeditated and thoroughly thought through."

"Not so sure that I believe that..." She peered at him. "Are you _drunk_?"

"Second of all," he continued, ignoring her, "I am insulted that you think this is a tattoo. It's a brand, and it will fade over time-"

"A _brand_? Have you lost your mind?"

"-and it's my foray into experimenting with the Protean charm," he continued happily. "But it won't work with just one, obviously-"

"Tom. Shut up a minute." Minerva turned her back on him, fingers pinching her nose bridge as she paced back and forth in the study room of the potions library. Apprehension was rising in her chest, and she tried to quell it before she turned back to him. "So. You've devised the latest in clingy couples communication, using NEWT level magic. Except it's highly permanent, and more than a little dangerous."

He quirked a brow. "Though I'm fond of your alliteration I'm afraid it's wrong this time. This is for a greater cause I'm working on, which I'll tell you about after you graduate. When someone with a matching mark presses theirs, I should feel mine burn, and I'll know his -or her- location." He seized her hand. "And I want you to be my test subject."

"I don't want a permanent reminder of a stupid school decision," Minerva protested as he pulled her towards a desk.

"It's not a permanent reminder of a stupid decision," he wheedled. "It's a permanent reminder of _me_. You'll be graduating in a matter of _weeks_ and I don't know when I'll have the chance to see you again..."

Minerva sighed, tracing the contours of his face with her free hand. "You're sweet, but that's a hideous design and it'll be impossible to conceal, and it looks borderline Satanic.. you do know my father's a minister, don't you?"

"Yes, you told me once," he said dismissively. "If you're concerned about it showing, you can cast a concealing charm on it until it fades, and by then it'll only resemble a scar."

"Wonderful, so my mother will think I've turned suicidal."

"You have plenty of scars from Quidditch," he pointed out.

"True.. why don't you get someone else to help you?" she suggested weakly, feeling as though she was running out of protestations. "Why not Dolohov, or.. Abraxas, or... I don't know, someone who won't mind permanent disfigurement?"

She thought she detected a flash of annoyance in his eyes, but it was gone before she could really be sure. He drew her to him gently. "Because in the event that I don't go through with what I have in mind, the only person I want to have me constantly within reach is you." He gently tugged her ponytail, tipping her head back. "That's why."

Minerva smiled in spite of herself, giving him a quick peck on the lips. "You have a gilded tongue, you insufferable twat."

"And I flatter myself that I use it well," he murmured, running his thumb along the edge of her lips. "Will you let me?"

Minerva glanced down as she felt the desk at her back, and looked back at Tom. "Fine..."

"And this is why I adore you," he said delightedly, lifting her as she exclaimed in surprise and setting her on the desk, readying a series of poultices and potion flasks that left her wondering how she had failed to notice them before.

"And... um..." she said apprehensively as she watched him masterfully command crackling flames from his wand into the shape of a snake emerging from a skull's mouth, "how much is this going to hurt?"

"Not tremendously," he said, gripping the instrument with his teeth as he took her left arm and bared the skin. She shivered; his touch felt feverish. "You've had your share of Quidditch mishaps, this won't be any worse," he reassured her, prepping her skin with substances that left it feeling first agitated and then numb. Minerva winced against her will as the skin reddened, and as he readied his wand hand to deliver the mark, she seized his shoulder.

"Wait," she said, exhaling sharply. "So.. this is going to burn that design into my skin."

"Yes, that's the way it works," he said, a slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I know you're not an idiot, Minerva. Stop procrastinating."

"I just want to know how you can say that _that_ isn't going to hurt tremendously."

Tom cupped her cheek with his left hand. "It will burn tremendously. But it won't hurt."

She gripped his wrist. "Now you're just being ridiculous. Be honest and tell me what I'm in for."

He stood against the desk between her legs, wrapping his free arm around her. "Would you say you feel for me ardently?"

She rolled her eyes. "Of course, but-"

"Isn't ardent synonymous with 'fervid'? Isn't fervid synonymous with 'burning'?"

"Not exactly, but close enough-"

"So," he said, his face in her hair as his long fingers caressed the small of her back, "does that hurt?"

"Not usually, but"

"Then what's the problem?"

Minerva groaned, taking his hand and wrapping his fingers around her left wrist. "Damn you. Just get it over with."

"Gladly," he said, and pressed the flames to her skin.

The searing pain was enough to send her into unconsciousness for a moment, and the last thing she recalled seeing before blacking out was Tom's face lit by the flames, incandescently and wildly elated. She came to with her head in the hollow of his neck, her arm burning as though it had been dealt a cruel cut though curiously devoid of much visible trauma, and his arms around her. "Have I ever told you I despise you?" she managed to say.

"Several times," he said, kissing her cheek. "It wasn't that bad, was it?"

"When do we have to test it?"

"Once it stops burning," he said, checking it carefully. "I'd say a week, and it improves a lot after only a few hours."

"I have NEWTS to study for," she said through gritted teeth. "Fuck you."

"I don't think you're in any shape for that-"

"Damn it, you know what I meant." She scowled at him. "Take me back to my room."

He looked as though he was trying to contain his mirth. "It was your arm, not your leg.."

"You owe me." Her tone was stern. "Now carry me back to my room, or I will give new meaning to 'fervid.'"

"Whatever you command," Tom said, easily lifting her, but his smirk and his tone only served as a reminder that his compliance was of his own volition, rather than her order.

"You're just the perfect gentleman when you get your way, aren't you."

"So astute of you to notice."

0o0o0

"Dumbledore," Snape said curtly, his black robes billowing behind him as he rolled up his left sleeve. "The Dark Lord-"

"I'm aware, Severus," Dumbledore said, turning away from McGonagall and nodding gravely. "Perhaps we ought to see what Alastor Moody has been drinking... invite him over."

0o0o0

"Perfect," Tom said as the mark materialized jet-black on his arm as he felt the expected burning sensation. "Outstanding."

"And I'll only ever feel it?" Minerva said carefully. "You're certain mine won't show?"

"The joys of being first, Minerva," he said, tapping the scar lightly, "is that you're spared the inevitable modifications that follow."

"Well, I like it this way," she replied, standing on tiptoe to kiss him. "I'll remember you ardently whenever I feel it."

0o0o0

FINIS

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**A/N: Last fanfic of finals week. BYE UNTIL SUMMER VACAY. Now, a few things about this oneshot. I hope you noticed that he never says he loves her. That's important. I hope you also noticed that he never denied being drunk. I love the implication of Tom getting wasted and coming up with the most arguably brilliant use of the Protean charm when he's supposed to be studying for NEWTS. That's how dem geniuses do it. Finally, I hope you saw Minerva trying to argue and getting worn down by Tom's strategic "But I burn for you so ardently!" crap. Tom's such a douche in this... but lbr, it's kind of endearing. And that's why the ending is so ominous. **

**Drop me a review if you liked it/loved it/hated it, my lovelies! :D**


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